The Little Shop in Cornwall: A heartwarming and feel good beach read

by Helen Pollard

  What popped out instead was, ‘Why don’t you let me fix you something to eat while you shower?’

  And again, Jason, what on earth…?

  When her eyes widened in surprise, he held his hands out, palms up. ‘If I don’t, you won’t eat. You’ll just fall into bed. Call it a peace offering for the other day.’

  ‘Is that the nearest you’ll get to an apology?’ She shook her head. ‘You know what? I’m too tired to argue, so I’ll take it as one. Come on up.’

  Jason wasn’t sure he was happy for her to accept an apology he hadn’t proffered, but he followed her up the stairs. ‘Was your flat damaged?’

  ‘No.’ She unlocked the door. ‘Maybe the roof’s sounder? Anyway, I’m not complaining.’

  Her flat was as small on the inside as it looked from the outside. The door opened directly onto the living area. At the back was a small kitchen space and then a stretch of bead curtains which he assumed hid the bedroom. A door in the far corner presumably led to a bathroom.

  But Claudia had made the best of it. Hues of sea blues and sand beige – lamps, throws, cushions, curtains – made it appear more spacious than it was. Soft textiles, fairy lights strung here and there, unusual ceramics and ornaments, all added a personal touch. Knowing she’d come from London made it all the more intriguing. This was about as far from urban as she could get without being in the sea.

  Jason could hear the suck and whoosh of the waves from in here and imagined it was soothing; that it might lull you to sleep. He could hear the sea from his own house, but they were so high up, it was a distant sound, muffled by the trees on the clifftop.

  ‘I know it’s tiny.’ Claudia’s tone was defensive. ‘But it suits me. And look – not a sacrificial altar in sight.’

  Jason winced. ‘I may have come on a bit strong the other day…’

  ‘May have?’

  ‘…for which I’m sorry. Millie’s vulnerable, and I can be over-protective.’ He didn’t want to start another argument, but he didn’t want her to misunderstand his apology, either. ‘I suppose I’m apologising for how I said it, but not necessarily what I said.’ If that had her pushing him back out the door, then so be it.

  She merely gave him a weary nod. ‘I need my shower before I fall over.’

  Grateful for the opportunity to allow the practical to take over from the awkward, Jason made a beeline for the kitchen area. ‘Anything in particular?’

  Claudia pulled her hair out of its fastenings, allowing it to tumble around her face. She looked like some wild – and dusty – goddess.

  ‘No. I’ll be grateful for anything you throw together, but keep it light, okay? I’m too tired to digest much.’ She went through the bathroom door, then stuck her head back around it. ‘And thanks. Peace offering accepted.’

  After texting Millie to say he’d been waylaid – but not why – Jason hunted through the fridge with misgiving. He wasn’t the best cook in the world, but ‘keep it light’ might be his saviour there. He dug out salad and found a shallow bowl to mix it in. The lack of meat didn’t surprise him – he had a feeling Claudia would be a vegetarian. He grated cheese, added olives, found slightly stale sourdough bread which he lightly toasted. That would have to do.

  By the time Claudia came back out, swaddled in an oversized cotton robe, her hair damp, it was laid out for her on the coffee table.

  She sent a grateful smile his way, and his pulse stuttered. That smile, unguarded and heartfelt, was quite something.

  ‘You’re a star.’ She slumped onto the sofa and took a bite of toast.

  Did that mean he was forgiven?

  ‘I wouldn’t have eaten anything. I would’ve just fallen into bed.’ Claudia tugged at her curls. ‘And going to bed with my hair wet is never a bright idea. I’d look like I’d plugged myself into a live socket by morning.’ She fingered the robe. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t be bothered to get dressed.’

  ‘Understandable. Don’t worry on my account.’ He went to put the kettle on. ‘Tea?’ But when he opened a cupboard looking for teabags, he was confronted with numerous jars of leaf teas instead. ‘Ah. Which one?’

  ‘Chamomile, please.’ Claudia yawned. ‘Just put two heaped spoonfuls in the pot and let it steep. Bring the honey. You’ll have some too, won’t you?’

  Jason grimaced as he sniffed the contents of the jar. ‘Er. Hmm. Thanks.’ He couldn’t imagine anything he’d rather drink less, but he didn’t want to offend her. Again.

  He brought the tea to the coffee table and took the armchair, jumping when something soft brushed against his leg. The large and indescribably coloured cat Millie had seen on their first visit to Healing Waves leapt onto the chair arm next to him and sniffed.

  ‘There you are!’ Claudia crooned. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t make an appearance when the fridge door opened. Have you been hiding from the nasty newcomer? Jason won’t bite.’

  Jason might not, but he wasn’t sure about the cat. Feeling obliged to make an effort, he cautiously reached out to tickle between its ears.

  The cat leaned into his hand and then, without a by-your-leave, stepped onto his jean-clad thighs, twirled around in a circle and plopped down in a warm, furry heap.

  ‘They always gravitate to the person who likes them the least,’ Claudia told him with a knowing look. ‘You’re honoured. Pudding’s put you before food.’ When Jason rolled his eyes at the name, she said, ‘The name’s not my doing, but it’s not inappropriate.’

  Jason reached over the cat’s head for his tea and took a sip. Yuk.

  Claudia laughed. ‘You know you’re making a face, right?’

  ‘Sorry. I was trying not to.’ But at least I made her laugh. ‘I spend a lot of time on building sites. You can stand a spoon upright in most of the tea I drink.’

  ‘That would keep you awake at this time of night. This will help you sleep.’

  She added a teaspoon of honey for him, but it only made it sweet as well as disgusting.

  He chuckled when she yawned. ‘Looks like you won’t need any help sleeping tonight.’ But because they still had the tea to drink – heaven help him – he didn’t feel that he could leave yet. ‘So, you’ve been clearing out today?’ he asked.

  ‘Yep. I took out the whole window display – ruined – then removed the damaged shelves. I’ve sorted through and boxed up all the goods I can’t save because the insurance assessor wants to see them. Then I mopped and cleaned the whole shop, because the wind blew sand and dirt and water everywhere.’

  ‘No wonder you’re exhausted.’

  ‘Yes, but it felt good. Yesterday was so frustrating – although your daughter cheered me up.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ And he was, he realised. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘If I can clear the roofer’s quote with the insurance company, he can get going, then there’s the stock to replace.’ She sighed. ‘All the textiles are unsaleable. I stock fair trade, organic, so they’ll take a while to reorder and get delivered. As for the soap, I make it myself. I usually find it relaxing.’

  ‘You don’t have any staff?’

  ‘No. I’m a one-man band.’

  ‘You work hard.’ Jason had been so caught up with not liking her shop, he hadn’t thought about that before. Six long days a week for most of the year. Evenings spent replenishing stock.

  ‘Yes. But I can catch up in the winter, when it’s quiet.’ She sipped her tea. ‘Millie said you’re an architect. How’s your new job going?’

  Jason had to admire her for trying to make polite conversation between stifled yawns, especially after the way he’d treated her the other day.

  ‘It’s hard, getting the measure of the people I’m working with and getting up to speed with everything. But I’m optimistic.’

  ‘What kind of work do they do?’

  ‘They specialise in upmarket homes, holiday homes, second homes. Extensions, conversions. Sometimes people buy a property, tear it down and start again because the land’s worth more than the modest home
that’s on it. Whatever we do, it has to fit into the locality, the landscape. And people like to go in an eco-direction nowadays.’

  Claudia started to ask another question, but it was overtaken by a long yawn she couldn’t control.

  Jason smiled. ‘You need to get to bed.’

  ‘I do. Sorry.’

  Extricating himself from the cat wasn’t easy. The animal mewed his protest, and in the end, Claudia had to come over and lift the cat off him.

  ‘Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you some supper.’

  But the cat seemed more interested in being petted – he lay like a baby in his mistress’s arms, purring contentedly.

  Shaking his head, Jason took the crockery over to the sink, then made for the door.

  ‘Thanks for supper,’ she said as he opened it.

  ‘You’re welcome. I owed you.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re not going to yell at me next time Millie buys a trinket?’

  ‘Trinkets, I can live with. As for the rest, I’m making no promises,’ he said gruffly. ‘Get some rest.’

  As Jason went down the steps, he heard the windchimes that dangled outside her shop jangling in the strong breeze that had blown up. The sound of the sea, he loved, but they would drive him mad.

  As he walked home against the wind, cold now, he tried to process the surprising turn his evening had taken.

  Claudia was alright, after all. Hardworking and independent. Kind-hearted. It was hard not to feel sorry for her troubles with the storm. He told himself that was no different to how he felt for the bookshop owners or anybody else in Porthsteren who’d been affected, but… Claudia had that extra pull, somehow. He wasn’t attracted to her, was he? Jason pushed that idea right out of his train of thoughts before it could stop at the station. Wild, colourful curls and floaty clothes were one thing, but the two of them had absolutely nothing in common. How could a man who dealt in structure and practicality be attracted to someone who believed in all that airy-fairy crap?

  At least he’d had the chance to make up for his bad behaviour the other day. As he climbed the tree-lined hill to his house, he bet Claudia was sound asleep already, that strange-looking cat of hers curled up at the foot of the bed. The way she couldn’t stop yawning, he could have scooped her up and placed her on the bed himself.

  For pity’s sake, Jason. What the hell?

  Chapter Seven

  Claudia slept long and heavy, and her head was fuzzy when she woke soon after dawn. Usually, an early morning walk along the beach would do the trick, but since the beach was still a mess, she settled for the road alongside it.

  When she’d first woken, she’d thought Jason making her supper had been a bizarre dream. Once she’d realised it had actually happened, she’d wanted to ask who’d snatched the old Jason Craig and put that one in his place. She supposed his better nature had been unable to ignore the opportunity to apologise by doing something practical, and that was all there was to it. Whatever it was, there was no denying she preferred last night’s Jason Craig – kind and personable – to the versions she’d met so far.

  Depressed by the sight of the two wrecked boats in the harbour, Claudia was about to turn back when her feet pointed her in the direction of Chapel Hill instead.

  The new shop now had a large purple fabric sign in the window, stating in scrolled gold letters:

  Hester’s Cauldron

  Opening soon!

  Claudia stared at it with her first unfurling of apprehension. Hester’s Cauldron?

  Her footsteps were quicker on her return journey to tell her neighbours. It made a change to be one up on Evelyn. Perhaps the storm had briefly interrupted Porthsteren’s gossip communication lines.

  With the bookshop still closed and no point in revving up the coffee machine, they sat with tea out on the terrace. It was still breezy enough to warrant the fleece Claudia had worn on her walk, and she used the mug to warm her hands.

  ‘Hester’s Cauldron?’ Evelyn frowned. ‘What do you think that’s all about?’

  ‘They’re obviously playing on it being old Hester Moon’s cottage,’ Sarah mused. ‘I’d’ve thought the name suits a café, but Ian said it’s retail.’ She turned to Claudia. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I suppose “cauldron” could mean “melting pot” – a cornucopia of things. Gifts and the like? Or…’ Claudia tapered off.

  ‘You don’t think it could be something like Healing Waves, do you?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Like we said before, I wouldn’t have thought Porthsteren could hold another New Age shop. But if they’re capitalising on the witch theme…’

  ‘You don’t sell anything remotely “witchy”!’ Evelyn said.

  Claudia sipped her tea. ‘No, but I suppose some people might see some of my goods that way.’ An image of Jason Craig popped into her head, his face cynical.

  Evelyn stood suddenly, knocking the table so their tea sloshed. ‘Now we know the name, we can look for a website.’ She shot indoors for her tablet, tapping away at it as she came back out.

  The home page showed a replica of the message in the shop’s window. The menu only allowed them to click on ‘Gallery’. A ‘Before’ heading had photos of the store as it had been, run down and forlorn. Under the ‘After’ heading were shots of builders gutting the place, but no indication of what it would eventually look like.

  ‘That’s no use at all!’ Evelyn squawked in frustration.

  ‘No point in creating a mystery and then giving everyone the solution, is there?’ Sarah said in her usual practical way.

  Evelyn huffed. ‘We don’t even know what “opening soon” means. They can’t take much longer or they’ll miss out on some of this season’s income.’

  Privately, Claudia hoped ‘soon’ didn’t mean too soon. How much would someone else’s grand opening – no matter what kind of shop it was – affect her takings, if her own shop was still a mess and low on stock?

  Sarah stood. ‘Well, maybe we should concentrate on rebuilding our own businesses, not worrying about theirs. Shake your booty, Evie!’

  Tanya arrived unexpectedly mid-afternoon, claiming a client had cancelled a meeting. Claudia suspected it was the other way around, but she wasn’t about to call her best friend out for coming to check on her.

  Ted and his apprentice were outside, battling with roof tiles and pointing and whatever other structural wonders were required to keep out the elements, and working their way through numerous cups of tea – normal tea that Claudia had pilfered from Sarah and Evelyn.

  ‘Where’s my man?’ Tanya asked after she’d delivered much-needed hugs, referring to her favourite feline as she looked around the disordered shop.

  ‘Firmly out of the way,’ Claudia told her. ‘I don’t need him causing chaos on top of the storm.’

  ‘Understandable. So, where are you at?’

  Claudia sighed. ‘I’ve been soap-making because I can’t paint the wall until Ted’s finished, and Sarah can’t help me put up shelves until the wall’s painted and dried, but Sarah and Evelyn reopen tomorrow so we’ll have to wait till Sunday morning, then I’ll need to do the window and shelf displays. So it looks like Monday before I could reopen.’

  Tanya studied the wall. ‘The shelves are the sticking point? Did you buy them yet?’

  ‘No. I was going to go into Penzance before they close today.’

  ‘Hmm. I saw something the other day that might work, if you fancy a change?’

  Claudia shrugged. ‘They say a change is as good as a rest. And since I’m not getting any rest…’

  Two hours later, they were back at Healing Waves for a well-deserved cuppa after a long drive and some fearsome bartering on Tanya’s part at a salvage and antique store she was currently designing a website for.

  On the counter sat a box of assorted antique hooks and hat pegs for the textiles Claudia would hang at the end of the wall nearest the window. On the floor were a dozen metal wire baskets from some long-closed-down swimming pool, once used to p
ut clothes in after swimmers had changed then hung on a long rail and looked after by an attendant… and now to be hung on Claudia’s wall for soaps.

  ‘They’ll look brilliant,’ Claudia decided as she studied the bare wall. ‘The scents won’t mingle that way, either.’

  ‘So, if you paint the wall tonight, then fix up all the hooks and baskets and cut and arrange the soaps and redo the window display tomorrow…’ Tanya suggested.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘…You can reopen on Saturday.’

  Claudia sighed. ‘That new shop’s threatening to open soon, and I’m at such a disadvantage!’

  ‘I’d forgotten about them.’ Tanya frowned. ‘Know what it is yet?’

  ‘It’s called Hester’s Cauldron. Other than that, Evelyn has a gossip network like a spider’s web stretched right across Porthsteren, but it’s not caught a fly yet.’

  ‘Hester’s Cauldron?’ Tanya mused. ‘In a legendary witch’s cottage?’

  ‘You haven’t heard anything, have you?’

  ‘Do I have a direct line to old Hester Moon who might still be haunting the place and let me know what’s going on in there? No, Claudia, I’m afraid my witchy skills fall short of that. Why, are you worried?’

  Claudia sighed. ‘I wasn’t before. Now? Maybe a tiny bit.’

  ‘Healing Waves is well-loved. The new place would have to be almost identical to affect you – which I doubt, with a name like that.’ Tanya laid an arm across Claudia’s shoulders. ‘Just remember, until you know you’ve got a problem, you haven’t got one. Schrödinger’s cat and all that. Either way, the sooner you reopen, the better. Concentrate on your own business for now.’

  ‘That’s what Sarah said.’

  ‘She’s a sensible woman. Maybe you could run one of your workshops? Show you’re back in the game and raring to go.’

  Claudia gave her a look. ‘I think “raring to go” might be over-optimistic. I’m knackered.’